


all that glitters

by christinahosetti



Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon: Friends of Mineral Town, Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town (Video Game 2020), 牧場物語つながる新天地 | Story of Seasons
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, Worldbuilding, claire is called clover, not gonna tag the whole town but they're all there basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25621216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinahosetti/pseuds/christinahosetti
Summary: “You’re not completely solitary, though,” Clover points out, now harvesting the blackberries into a tupperware container she’s fished out of her rucksack. “You hang out with me all the time. And Mugi, and Lillia, and Harris.”“That’s true. They’re all people with peaceful energies, though, so I don’t mind them so much. No drama or nastiness.”Clover gives her an odd look. “I’m not sure that applies to me.”“Well, you’re the exception.”-Jennifer has secrets to keep, but the farmer makes her want to spill them all.
Relationships: Claire the Farmer/Jennifer (Harvest Moon)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Comments appreciated.

Jennifer sits by the lake late in the summer afternoon, waiting for the farmer. It’s a routine she’s fallen into without really paying it much thought. It feels as natural as the seasons, as the grass growing beneath her feet.

Sometimes Clover doesn’t come by, but that’s okay. It makes her presence feel all the more special. One evening in the dog days of spring, a couple of weeks after the farmer had moved in, Jennifer had waited until the hands on her watch struck ten and night had settled all around her, before begrudgingly admitting defeat and heading back to the warmth of the Inn. She knew her patience had been rewarded when Clover turned up at her tent bright and early the next morning clutching a sunsweet flower, her hair lit up by the sun like a halo.

On days like this, she usually hears Clover before she sees her. The farmer’s singsong voice bounces off the trees as she makes her way up Mother Hill. Her habit of talking to both herself and the flora and fauna is endearing, if not a little bewildering. Jennifer prefers to be silent in nature. It’s important for her to hear the rushing of the water, the patter of the squirrel’s feet. The comforting rhythmic click of the woodpecker’s beak against a tree. 

It’s past seven by the time she hears the farmer approach. She’s humming a different song than usual; this one is more upbeat, purposeful. 

“And what has you in such a good mood today?” Jennifer enquires as the farmer comes bounding up to her. She’s got something in her hand, and is doing a poor job of concealing it behind her back.

“Have you met Kai yet?” Clover collapses next to her, cross legged. “He’s so fucking chill. Says he’s only here for summer, though, which sucks.”

“Kai who owns the beach stall? I’ve heard of him. According to Mugi he and Rick have a burning hatred towards each other.” 

Clover scoffs at this. “I’m not surprised. Rick has a stick so far up his ass Kai could put him on the barbecue and call him a kebab.” She laughs at Jennifer’s disapproving look. “Oh, come on, Jen. You’ve met Rick. He’s threatened by anything that doesn’t cluck and lay eggs.”

Jennifer has met Rick, and Clover’s assessment of the man isn’t far off. She finds it hard to keep a smile from blooming for long when she’s around the other woman, even when her words are harsher and her language more colourful than Jennifer would like. “You’re not wrong,” she acquiesces.

Clover grins. “Never am.” She pulls out her arm from behind her and places a small pot of what looks like chocolate ice cream on the grass. It’s halfway melted. Jennifer sees her frown. 

“Don’t worry,” she says quickly. “It’s a particularly hot day today, even for summer. I’m sure it still tastes delicious.”

“I got it for you,” Clover sighs. “It’s fro-yo. Apparently trends take a while to reach Mineral Town.”

Jennifer smiles. “Chocolate?”

“Kai doesn’t do chestnut flavour, so I figured this would be your next preferred option. Although I could put a good word in for you, if you like. I’m sure it would be a worthwhile investment for him.”

Jennifer rolls her eyes. “Chocolate is just fine, thank you. I was going to ask for an eating utensil, but I suppose I could just drink it at this point.”

Clover pokes Jennifer’s foot with her own. “An eating utensil. Who talks like that?” She takes Jennifer’s hand a presses a small plastic spoon into her palm. “There. A spoon for m’lady.”

“How kind. But wasteful.”

“Oh, come on. Just don’t throw it into the lake when you’re done and we’ll be fine.”

Jennifer decides to dig in before the fro-yo completely melts into a puddle of goop. It’s good, a little sour, with a sharp tang that doesn’t come with ice cream but works surprisingly well with the chocolate flavour. Clover watches her the entire time, a quiet satisfaction on her face, and she finds it makes her heart beat just a little faster. She swallows her mouthful. “Did you want to share it?”

Clover stands up and brushes off her jeans. “I already had some. Kai gave me a free sample. The mango flavour is godlike.” Jennifer watches as she wanders over to a blackberry bush on the edge of the clearing and begins to inspect the fruit. She plucks one and, after a moment’s consideration, bites into it. The juice runs down her chin. Jennifer averts her eyes. “You’ll have to be careful,” she says coolly. “Rick won’t want to sell you any more chickens if you get too close.”

Clover wipes her mouth and laughs. “That’s up to Lillia, not Rick. And besides, I don’t need to buy any more chickens.” She flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “Gotts installed an incubator for my coop, free of charge.”

“Free fro-yo samples _and_ free incubators? You’re certainly popular.”

“Are you jealous?” says Clover slyly. “You know I can introduce you to people if you want. I’ve offered before but you always say no.”

“And I will continue to say no. Thank you, but I like my solitude. It’s essential to keep my energies balanced.”

“You’re not completely solitary, though,” Clover points out, now harvesting the blackberries into a tupperware container she’s fished out of her rucksack. “You hang out with me all the time. And Mugi, and Lillia, and Harris.”

“That’s true. They’re all people with peaceful energies, though, so I don’t mind them so much. No drama or nastiness.”

Clover gives her an odd look. “I’m not sure that applies to me.”

“Well, you’re the exception.”

“Shit. I don’t know whether to be offended or not.”

“I would have thought you would be happy to be the exception, egotistical as you are.”

Clover gasps. “You take that back right now!”

Jennifer shakes her head. “I will not. It’s imperative that one recognises one’s own faults, in order to progress with the betterment of the self.”

Clover glares at her out of the corner of her eye, before turning her gaze to the sun setting over the lake. “You know I have no idea what you’re talking about half the time, right?”

“I think you understand more than you care to admit,” says Jennifer, smiling, a warm feeling settling in her stomach.

“No, really. Like when we first met and you started talking about chakras. I was just nodding along.”

“I know.”

Clover whips her head around. “W-What do you mean, you know?!”

“You’re not the most convincing actress. But I appreciate you humouring me.”

The farmer groans and flops onto the grass, her hair splayed out around her head in messy blonde tendrils. They sit in companionable silence for a while. Jennifer watches as Clover’s eyes slowly slide shut, the dusk casting golden light over her face. The only sign that she’s still awake is her left hand absently fiddling with a daisy, and a twitch in her right foot. 

“What was that song you were humming?” Jennifer asks her after a pause. “You know, before?”

Clover scrunches up her nose like she’s trying to remember, her eyes still closed. When she speaks, her voice is sleepy. “Oh, that one? It’s a sea shanty that Kai likes. I told him having a fancy yacht doesn’t make you a pirate, but it’s actually pretty catchy.”

“Will you teach it to me?”

“If you want. I’m not sure you’ll get much use out of it, considering you never leave this forest.”

“That’s not true. I do go down to the beach sometimes, and into town.”

“Then you can come and meet Kai. You’ll like him, I promise.”

“If you like him, I’m sure I will, too. Shouldn’t you be getting back to your farm?”

Clover chuckles and rolls over, arms reaching up to embrace Jennifer’s waist. “Oh, Jen. Always so eager to get rid of me. I promise one of these days I’ll leave you alone and let you meditate in peace.”

“It’s not that… I have to get back to the inn, and-”

Clover cuts her off with a massive yawn, and stumbles to her feet. “I know, I know. Come and visit me on the farm tomorrow? We can make blackberry pie with what I gathered today.”

“That sounds perfect.” Jennifer smiles at her. “Have a safe walk home.”

Clover slings her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll watch out for the foxes.” She throws Jennifer a wink, and just like that, she’s gone.

* * *

When she arrives back at the Inn, it’s Dudley’s daughter that greets her. She likes Ran a lot, likes her positive energy and easy smile, but she can be a little overbearing at times. Especially now, when her mind is clouded with nothing but thoughts of Clover. 

Despite her protests, Jennifer finds herself being steered over to the bar by two small but firm hands. Ran’s perfume smells like vanilla, and her hair is heavy and thick like a rope when she accidentally whips Jennifer in the face with her braid as she sits them down. She’s full of nervous excitement as she explains that she wants a palm reading, and she’s heard that Jennifer gives them for free. Dudley appears and pours them two glasses of red wine, saying nothing but discreetly throwing Jennifer a good-natured eye roll when Ran’s not looking. 

Jennifer figures a palm reading is the least she can do, considering Dudley’s letting her stay at the Inn for a discounted rate, the food is delicious, and Dudley and Ran just seem to be nice people in general. She tells Ran what she wants to hear: that she will meet a mysterious but hardworking and kind man (true) and that they will have a long and happy marriage (not so true). Ran demands to know the man’s name, but Jennifer tells her that would ruin the element of surprise, which for some reason makes the red-haired woman laugh until there are tears in her eyes. 

They end up finishing off the bottle, and it’s past midnight by the time Jennifer finally slinks into her bed. She’s too tired to brush her teeth, the taste of the wine sitting heavily on her tongue as she slides into sleep. She dreams of lemonade on the beach, and chocolate, and blackberry juice mixed with the salt of skin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated.

Jennifer wakes up late the next day. She’s not a big drinker, and the wine has left her a little sluggish. Clover will be done with her farm chores by now, since that woman gets up hours earlier than Jennifer even on her best days, but she decides to give it some time before heading over. The day is bright and clear, and she hopes that flower picking on Mother Hill will provide the respite she needs. Pink cat flowers, fresh in bloom, as well as wilting moondrops and toy flowers are plucked from the earth and added to the bunch. She never feels bad about taking from nature, as long as everything is put to good use. The flowers she dries by letting them hang inside her tent for a couple of weeks; once they’re ready, she gathers lavender and rosemary and oils purchased from Jeff’s shop and mixes them together in a jar passed off from Dudley’s breakfast spread. Sometimes, depending on who she’s giving them to, she changes the recipe. Rose petals for Manna, hawthorn for Lillia, pink camellias for Clover. She hasn’t actually gifted any potpourri to Clover, yet, despite it being her earliest creation. She’s waiting for the right time.

It’s two o’clock by the time she arrives at Ceres Farm. Clover had named the farm after the Roman goddess, which the Harvest Goddess was none too pleased about. It had taken a strawberry plant next to the spring’s edge and a promise to destroy someone called Witch Princess before she was appeased. 

“You know it’s a great sin to lie to the Goddess,” Jennifer had said. 

Clover huffed at her. “What makes you think I was lying?”

“You’re telling me you’re prepared to undertake the pilgrimage to Forget-me–Not Valley, seek out an incredibly powerful mage and kill her?”

“Okay, look. How about you do the killing, and I’ll drive us and buy the snacks?”

“Clover, you don’t have a licence.”

“Wrong. I have a tractor licence.”

“You’re going to drive us all the way to Forget-me-Not in a tractor?” Jennifer had laughed at Clover’s childish scowl. “Why can’t you just change the name?”

“The damage is already done. And I like the name. Sorry I wasn’t expecting an actual divine being to be living in the pond down the road from my house.” 

Jennifer had decided it would be fruitless to argue any further after that point. She didn’t understand why Clover insisted on defying the Harvest Goddess. It was as if the other woman didn’t realise how strong the Goddess’ power really was, behind her saccharine smile and sweet giggles.

It’s a wonder that she finds Clover’s naivety beguiling instead of plain irritating: in anyone else, she would have very little patience for it. She ponders this conundrum as she makes her way up the path to the farmer’s house, past the crop fields. Tomato plants, six foot tall, swelter on their vines under the summer heat. Behind them grow onions, and corn for the chickens, and lining the fields is thick green grass for the cattle and sheep to graze on. The sun is high in the sky today, so Clover has propped open the barn doors and left the animals to their own devices. Most of them mill around, content to munch on the grass and ignore Jennifer as she walks by. She offers pats here and there, picking her way through the sea of bright eyes and twitching ears until she finds who she’s looking for. 

“Meringue!” she squeals, then claps a hand over her mouth. Every other sheep within a fifty metre radius scatters immediately at the sudden noise, but Jennifer’s favourite is steadfast. Mostly because she’s managed to get herself completely stuck between the fence and the hedge. 

“Ugh, not again,” says Clover’s voice from behind. “Seriously, Meringue? That’s the second time this week. Is this some kind of sheep joke I’m too human to understand?”

“She’s done this before?” asks Jennifer incredulously. The situation seems almost physically impossible: the gap between the ground and the wire is far too thin, and Meringue is far too fluffy. And for it to happen twice?

“I came back from town on Monday to find her in the exact same spot,” Clover sighs, crouching down beside her and reaching through the fence to scratch the sheep behind the ears with a reluctant fondness. “How do you think she’s doing it? Do you think she’s jumping over?”

Jennifer side eyes her. “Clover, I don’t think a sheep as… substantial as Meringue is going to be jumping fences this tall. Most sheep can’t clear anything over four feet. And besides, why would she jump straight into a hedge?”

“Since when did you become the farm animal expert?” Clover mutters, climbing to her feet. “Look, I was under the impression that sheep were great hurdlers. Why else would they tell you to count sheep jumping over a fence when you can’t sleep?”

“If you can’t sleep, might I suggest Valerian root? Or lavender, or passionflower extract, or…”

“Benzos will do me just fine. Now help me get her out of here,” Clover says. “And try not to decapitate yourself like I almost did last time.”

It’s difficult, awkward work. The fence is too tall for them to simply grab Meringue at either end and lift her over, so Clover lifts from the bottom and Jennifer from the top until they have enough purchase that Clover can wrap her arm around the sheep’s bulk. It isn’t until the newly freed Meringue has trotted off happily, and they’ve taken a moment to breathe, that Jennifer notices Clover is bleeding. She lets out a soft little noise of concern and grabs the farmer’s arm without really meaning to. There’s a gash in the flesh next to her right elbow, stretching from the underside to the top of her arm in a half-moon shape. She must have caught it on the barbed wire when she lifted the sheep over.

“So you decided to go for amputation instead of decapitation?” Jennifer says, and Clover lets out a breathy little laugh. 

“I didn’t do a very good job, did I?” Her voice wavers slightly, and Jennifer notices she’s gone pale. They both watch as a thick bead of blood trickles its way down her arm. Clover swallows audibly. 

“You really don’t like blood, do you?” Jennifer says, remembering once when they’d met up for a drink at the Inn, and Ran had smashed a glass in front of them and cut her finger open. Clover had had to lay her head on the bar for a few minutes to keep herself from fainting.

“Does anyone?” Clover scrunches her eyes shut. “It’s really hot, don’t you think? Like really, really hot.”

“Let’s get you inside,” Jennifer says, and leads her inside the house. Once Clover is sat down with a glass of water, she begins rummaging in the kitchen drawers for salve and bandages. “Don’t you have a first aid kit somewhere?”

“Who actually has a first aid kit?” Clover looks over at her blearily. “There’s plasters and antiseptic cream in the bathroom cabinet. Chill out, Jen, I’m fine.”

“You’re dripping blood on the floor as we speak,” Jennifer says disapprovingly, emerging from the bathroom with the supplies as well as a bowl of water and a washcloth. “Just stop being difficult and let me take care of you.” 

They both watch in silence as Jennifer gently dabs at Clover’s arm until the bleeding stops. She applies the antiseptic cream, and Clover shivers at the cold touch. She turns her head away, cringing. “Ugh. I can’t even look. What’s it gonna be like when one of my animals gives birth? This is a paper cut in comparison.”

Jennifer laughs, layering the plasters over the wound. It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do for now. “If everything goes well, there shouldn’t actually be that much blood during labour.”

“And you know this how?”

“I find the natural process of birth fascinating. Nothing else is so beautiful and dangerous in equal measure.”

Clover groans. “I feel like there won’t be much beauty about it with me in charge. Maybe that’s something else you could do for me. You know, as well as killing the Witch Princess.”

“What? Give birth?”

The farmer snorts, reaching over to lightly slap the confused expression from Jennifer’s face. “Deliver my calves, idiot. Although if you want to give birth for me when the time comes, I’m all for it. I don’t wanna go through that shit.”

“Clover-”

“I know, I know. You don’t have to say it. It’s an imperative part of the cycle of life and I should be grateful for the opportunity. It just looks really scary. And messy. Did you know that lots of women actually-”

“Clover, stop. What I was actually going to say is that you need to stop doubting your abilities. You’ve already achieved so much in such a short amount of time. You’ll know what to do.” She takes Clover’s hands and squeezes. “I have faith in you.”

“Mmhmm. That’s why I love your hippy dippy self,” Clover says, and for a moment she looks like she’s blinking back tears. She shakes her head and smiles, and it’s a great wide open smile that stretches to her eyes and ears. “So. You still wanna make that blackberry pie?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments appreciated, as always.

Jennifer ends up doing most of the actual baking, with Clover’s biggest contributions being carving little hearts out of pastry and sprinkling a generous layer of sugar over the pie’s crust.

“You can barely even see my latticework anymore,” Jennifer complains. “I spent a good twenty minutes on that while you were playing with the dog.”

“Look, I’m sorry. The harvest sprites have a sweet tooth.”

A pause. “You didn’t tell me this was for the harvest sprites.”

Clover gives her a mischievous look. “Cute, isn’t it? I found a loophole where the more gifts I give them, the more I can get them to do the boring stuff that I don’t want to do.”

“That’s not a loophole,” says Jennifer, crossing her arms. “That’s just them being easily bought and you taking advantage of that.”

Clover pulls a face. “I don’t know why you’re so against it. That’s less time I have to spend doing farm chores and more time you get to spend with me. It’s a win-win.”

“Why did you take on a farm if you don’t even like doing farm work?” Jennifer mutters, but she soon finds herself being dragged up the path to the harvest sprites’ hut anyway. It’s Mint who opens the door, and although the sprite is already as shy as they come, they about jump a foot in the air when they spy Jennifer.

“It’s alright, Mint,” Clover reassures them as they crouch in front of the tiny doorway. “Jennifer’s a friend of mine.”

Mint doesn’t look convinced, but they move aside to let the women in. The hut was not built with human proportions in mind, so they have to shuffle their way in on all fours. The living space is wide and open in order to accommodate the seven sprites, but the ceiling is still too low for Clover and Jennifer to even lift their heads fully. Blueberry, ever the gracious host, rushes to pull out chairs for them.

“Thank you, Blueberry,” says Jennifer as sincerely as she can manage, “but I have a feeling we might break them.”

“Speak for yourself,” mutters Clover.

“Nonsense!” Blueberry chirps. “They’re imbued with magic! They wouldn’t break even if an elephant sat on them!”

“What’s an elephant?” asks Pumpkin, lazing on their bed.

“How do you not know what an elephant is?” scoffs Aqua.

“You know Pumpkin doesn’t care ‘bout anything that’s not eatin’ nor sleepin’,” Sunny pipes up.

Pumpkin sits up, hands balled into tiny fists. “Says you, you big ball of dough. And I might know more about stuff if you actually let me read your books instead of making me sweep the floor all the time, Aqua.”

“Maybe if you didn’t spill flour everywhere constantly I wouldn’t have to make you sweep the floor!”

“It’s Plum with those big goofy hands! Not me!”

“An elephant is a large land mammal with a trunk and big floppy ears,” declares Blueberry. The sprites all turn to look at them like they’ve suddenly sprouted a new head, but at least it shuts them up.

 _Obnoxious little creatures_ , thinks Jennifer.

“Does this happen often with you guys?” asks Clover, looking very much like she wants to burst out laughing.

“Only when Aqua decides to run their mouth,” huffs Pumpkin.

Cherry places a hand on Aqua’s shoulder. “Don’t respond to that, Aqua. They’re just trying to rile you up, as usual.”

Pumpkin rolls their eyes and flops back down on the bed.

A moment of awkward silence, then: “Can you eat them elephant thingies?”

“If anyone could manage it, I’m sure you could, Sunny,” Clover replies, an answer that seems satisfactory based on the smug smile it puts on Sunny’s face.

“It must be very difficult all living together under one roof,” Jennifer says diplomatically, trying to ignore the urge to grab Clover, bar the door and burn down the hut with them all inside.

“We didn’t choose to live together,” Blueberry explains, suddenly sounding very tired. “We were put here to serve the Goddess and the people of this town. And, to tell you the truth, we were at our breaking point before Clover came. The town was dying.”

“It’s true,” Pumpkin says quietly, their back still turned. “People forgot how to live off of the land. No one came to ask for our help. Even Carter stopped visiting us. It was like he forgot we were here.”

“We turned on each other. Now Clover’s here, and the farm has been revived, things are better. But we still slip up sometimes. It can be hard to get along when we’re all so different,” Blueberry shrugs. “We love each other really, deep down.”

“I don’t love Aqua,” mutters Pumpkin, which earns them a swat from a rolling pin wielded by Cherry.

“You know I’m always down to play with you guys,” says Clover, a twinkle in her eye. “Jennifer here doesn’t approve of you working for me, however.”

Jennifer clears her throat as six pairs of beady little eyes burn through her. “It’s not that I don’t approve, per se. I just think there’s merit in hard work, on Clover’s part.”

“Clover does work hard!” snaps Aqua defensively. “We just help her, that’s all! A big farm like that is a lot for one person to manage all by themselves!”

“I know that, I’m not claiming otherwise-”

“Maybe you think Clover doesn’t work hard because _you_ don’t do anything,” says a quiet voice from underneath the table, stopping Jennifer in her tracks. Mint clambers out and turns to face her, their gaze uncharacteristically steely. She’d forgotten they were even there.

She’s as shocked as the rest of them, but somehow she admires Mint’s boldness in making such a statement. “You think I don’t do anything?”

“All you do is sit in your tent and play with your flowers. If you tried doing what Clover does, you’d see it’s not so easy at all.”

Jennifer fixes Mint with a glare so intense that the sprite physically shrinks back, their newfound confidence dissipating as quickly as it came. “You have no idea what I do for this town,” she says, her voice dangerously low. “None of you do.”

She can see Clover’s worried expression out of the corner of her eye, and feels a sudden pang of guilt. She’s never shown this side to her in front of the other woman before. Whatever her personal feelings about the sprites are, she knows that Clover depends on them, just as much as she depends on the forest to keep her sane.

“We made you this blackberry pie,” she declares, plucking it from where it sits on Clover’s lap and placing it on the table. “Well, I made it, mostly. Clover picked the fruit and poured sugar on it.”

“I like sugar,” whispers Sunny, earning an elbow in the ribs from a wide-eyed Blueberry.

When she glances at Clover, the farmer is staring down at her hands.

“I hope you enjoy it,” she tells the sprites, and takes her leave from the hut with as much dignity as someone crawling on their hands and knees can muster.

She doesn’t get far back down the path before she hears Clover’s footsteps running after her.

“Jen, please! Wait!”

She briefly considers continuing on, but something about the plea in the farmer’s voice causes her to relent and turn around. Clover’s face is flushed, her breath coming in short gasps. Jennifer knows how much Clover hates running. The implication that she’s important enough that Clover would swallow her pride for her gives her a strange sense of satisfaction.

“I’m sorry about what happened in there,” Clover says, sounding like she means every word. Sweet, sweet Clover. Only she would apologise with nothing to apologise for. “They’re not usually like that, I swear. The vibe was so weird. I don’t know, maybe the Goddess did something that pissed them off, or…”

“Or maybe they just dislike me,” shrugs Jennifer. “They are entitled to their feelings, after all.”

Clover frowns, folding her arms. “That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t they like you?”

 _Where to start_ , Jennifer thinks. She’s almost tempted to tell Clover the truth right then and there, but she knows she’s not ready to hear it. Not yet. Instead, she says, “They’re defensive of you. They love and respect you, and they thought I had insulted you. It’s only natural they would get a little aggressive.” She pauses. “You know I didn’t mean what I said as an insult, don’t you?”

Clover’s gaze is fixed firmly on a rabbit hopping its way along the treeline, her teeth worrying a thumbnail. She’s pointedly avoiding eye contact, something she often does when upset. When she finally does speak, her voice is so quiet that Jennifer has to strain to catch her words. “I’m tired, Jen. I’m just so tired all the time. There’s just… it’s just so much pressure, you know? Having to provide for the entire town. Being told I’m the entire reason that the town is doing as well as it is. What if one day I just burn out and decide I can’t do it anymore? What’ll happen to the town then? I’d feel terrible.”

“Someone else would take it over, I’m sure. If it came to that.”

“But I’d have failed. I’d have to live knowing I failed. And it wouldn’t just be myself. It would be the town, my grandfather, the Goddess, the sprites… and you.” Clover looks at her then. Her blue eyes aren’t bright with tears, but dull with resignation. “I admire you so much, you know. The way you live so independently. You’re so confident in yourself. And I know you do so much for the people in this town. Don’t listen to what Mint said.”

“I won’t, don’t worry. I hadn’t even heard them speak before today. That little outburst was quite unexpected,” she says, and Clover giggles, and Jennifer thinks she may have never been so happy to hear a sound before in her life. “I just want you to reach your full potential. But at the same time, the last thing I want is for you to be unhappy.”

“I love you so much,” Clover says, pulling her into a tight hug.

 _I love you too_ , Jennifer mouths into the bare skin of her shoulder. _And I’m sorry_.

Clover pulls back to stare at her incredulously. “Wait a minute. Was that a rare Jennifer apology?”

“That’s some talent you have there, Miss Farmer.”

“I can’t believe it. I’ve been waiting for this moment since I met you.”

Jennifer eyes her suspiciously. “You’ve been waiting for us to have a quasi-fight and have to apologise to each other?”

“Isn’t that the mark of every good friendship?”

“You humans are strange.”

“I know you’re not of this earth, but you don’t have to generalise us like that.” Jennifer smiles at this, finally, and Clover knows that as a cue to take her hand and lead her back down the path, past the church, past the lilies and purple hyacinths that line the churchyard in eternal bloom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #galpals #aquaisoverparty


End file.
